On a steep north-east-facing slope in the upland pasture of Glen townland in County Limerick, there sits, or rather once sat, what may have been a small ringfort. A ringfort, for those unfamiliar with the term, is a roughly circular enclosure defined by an earthen bank and outer ditch, common across early medieval Ireland as a farmstead or settlement boundary. This one has been so thoroughly eroded by time and agricultural activity that by the time anyone looked closely at the ground, there was effectively nothing left to see.

The site first came to light not through excavation or field survey, but through a set of oblique aerial photographs taken on 10 July 1967, catalogued under the Cambridge University Collection of Aerial Photography reference CUCAP AYO036. Even then, the evidence was thin. Writing in 1959, O'Dwyer had already noted that the feature appeared to have been a small circular enclosure of roughly 15 metres in diameter, with the bank practically levelled and no visible ditch. By the time the Archaeological Survey of Ireland carried out a ground survey in 2008, they recorded no surface remains whatsoever. Subsequent satellite and ortho imagery, including captures between 2005 and 2012, and again in 2018, confirmed that nothing is visible from above either. What persists is an indirect clue: the townland boundary between Glen and Pallashill takes a small, deliberate kink to respect a depression lying to the north-north-east of the possible monument, suggesting that the landscape retained a memory of the feature long after the feature itself had gone.

Access to upland pasture of this kind in Limerick typically means walking across working farmland, and any visit would require the landowner's permission. The slope is steep and north-east facing, meaning it can be wet and exposed depending on the season. There is no marker, no information board, and no visible earthwork to locate. What a visitor might notice, if they know to look, is the faint natural shelf of ground across the area, and perhaps, on a good day with a map in hand, the curious jog in the townland boundary line that quietly preserves the memory of something that has otherwise entirely disappeared.