Unbaptised infants were traditionally interred in places like this one, known in Irish as cillíní, set apart from the parish graveyard but nonetheless chosen with a kind of deliberate care, often near water, old boundaries, or places already freighted with local significance. What makes this particular site quietly arresting is not only what it is, but what it is called.

The correct Irish name, according to the cartographer and writer Tim Robinson, is Doirín na Bruighne, a detail that places it within the layered topography Robinson spent decades recovering across the west of Ireland. The site itself is unenclosed in the formal sense, though modern walls now delimit its northern and western edges and a pathway cuts across it from east to west. At the south-east, traces of an older wall survive, suggesting the ground was once more deliberately marked off. Inside, small set stones and thorn trees are scattered through the northern half, the stones serving as modest, unnamed markers. In the southern half sits a ruinous subcircular structure built from dry-laid stone, known as a leacht, roughly one and a half metres across. A leacht is a low cairn-like monument, typically associated with prayer or commemoration, and its presence here, however collapsed, implies that this was a place people returned to, not simply one they left behind. A holy well lies about a hundred and thirty metres to the west, reinforcing the sense that this corner of the landscape was already considered meaningful long before the burial ground came into use.