The stone, which measures roughly 1.77 metres by 1.2 metres, is pocked with natural solution holes, the kind formed when slightly acidic water slowly dissolves the rock over long periods. None of the depressions are neatly bowl-shaped; they are mostly elongated or oval, irregular in size and orientation. And yet, for centuries, local tradition held that they were not geological at all, but the imprints left in the stone when St. Bridget knelt and pressed her hands into the ground while praying.

The Ordnance Survey Letters of 1839, a remarkable series of field notes compiled as surveyors mapped Ireland for the first time at six-inch scale, recorded the tradition directly. The entry, later published by O'Flanagan in 1930, noted plainly that the impressions "are certainly the work of nature," even while faithfully preserving the legend. The stone appears on both the first and second edition OS six-inch maps, which suggests it was considered a notable feature of the landscape rather than a curiosity to be quietly omitted. It sits on a north-east-facing slope, 170 metres north-north-east of the early medieval monastery at Kilree, a site attributed to St. Bridget and home to a medieval church, a round tower, and a high cross. Round towers, for those unfamiliar, are the tall, narrow stone structures built at Irish monastic sites from roughly the ninth century onward, likely used as bell towers and places of refuge. The proximity of the stone to that complex, combined with its enduring name, suggests it was drawn into the devotional geography of the monastery, whatever its origins in the rock itself.

The stone is on an open hillside, and the monastic site at Kilree lies a short distance to the south-south-west. The round tower and high cross there are visible from some distance, and the juxtaposition of a formally recognised monument and this quietly named outcrop gives some sense of how broadly the idea of a sacred landscape could extend beyond the walls of any single enclosure.