The stones are described as resembling what antiquarian W. G. Wood-Martin, writing in 1892, called so disposed as to simulate the form of a rude altar. That phrase carries a particular weight: this is not a monument that announces itself, but one whose significance has always been local, oral, and slightly ambiguous.

The cairn itself is modest in scale, roughly six metres north to south and five metres east to west, rising to less than a metre in height, built from small stones. At its edge sits a cross-inscribed stone, and a second cross-inscribed slab was noted during a site visit in 2003. The nine rounded stones recorded at the same time are comparable to what tradition calls cursing stones, smooth river-worn rocks used in ritualised acts of imprecation, turned or handled as part of a devotional or maledictory act. At the southern edge of the cairn grows a holy tree, the kind of living marker often found at Irish sacred sites, where fabric, offerings, or prayers have been left over generations. Locally, the place is remembered as a site of stations or pattern, the latter being the Irish term for a gathering held on a saint's feast day, combining prayer, pilgrimage circuits, and communal assembly. Two quarry holes lie immediately to the north of the cairn, suggesting that the stones of the cairn itself may have been sourced from close by, giving the monument a self-contained, improvised quality that suits its rural setting.

The site sits in ordinary farmland rather than any managed heritage area, and the cairn's low profile means it rewards close attention rather than a glance from a distance. The holy tree at the southern edge and the cross-marked stones are the clearest things to look for once you are standing among the rough grass.