They are irregular in shape, spaced roughly three to six metres apart, and reach no more than 0.7 metres in height. At some point, someone looked at them and saw a stone circle. Someone else saw a megalithic structure. The official assessment is considerably less dramatic: the stones are probably the incidental leftovers of small-scale quarrying, and any curve they appear to form is most likely a coincidence of placement rather than a deliberate arrangement.

The hillock sits within undulating, rocky limestone terrain, with boggy ground to the north and surrounding fields enclosed by drystone walls, many of them reclaimed from rougher land. Around the circuit of the hill, the traces of quarrying activity are visible at several points, which complicates any reading of what might once have stood here. Local tradition holds that there was an enclosure on the site, and there is some physical evidence worth considering: a scarp, incorporating occasional stones and boulders, follows the eastern to southern arc of the hill at the break of slope between the summit and the descending sides. An enclosure, in this context, would likely have been a roughly circular or oval boundary of stone or earthwork, used for settlement, agriculture, or ceremonial purposes during the prehistoric or early medieval period. But the scarp fades out before completing the circuit, and a hint of one on the northern side is difficult to read because quarry pits have disturbed the ground there. A straight field wall cuts across the western side of the hill, adding another layer of ambiguity. The evidence, taken together, is genuinely tenuous, and the site resists any confident interpretation.

What makes Garraun quietly interesting is precisely this unresolvability. The boulders were recorded as a possible stone circle and as a possible megalithic structure before closer inspection suggested quarrying as a more mundane explanation. The scarp may be the ghost of something built, or simply the natural edge of a hillock that happens to hold its shape along one arc. The site is a reminder that the Irish landscape is full of features that have attracted names and classifications without ever quite earning them, and that ambiguity is itself a form of historical record.