It stands just 1.3 metres tall, rectangular in plan, and has been leaning gently towards the south-southeast for long enough that no one now living can say when it began to tilt. What makes it quietly curious is the evidence written all over it: every face of the stone has been smoothed and worn by cattle rubbing against it, and the ground around its base has been hollowed into a depression by the same repeated pressure over what must be a very long time. Something planted in the earth to mark a moment in prehistory has, in the intervening centuries, become a scratching post.

The stone sits in improved pasture on a north-west-facing slope, occupying a dip in the land between Palmer's Hill to the south-west and Ballyknock Hill to the north-east. Its orientation runs east-north-east to west-south-west, a deliberate alignment that is common among Irish standing stones, which were typically erected during the Bronze Age as territorial markers, ceremonial features, or astronomical reference points. From this low position in the landscape, the plains of Cashel open out to the north-west, a broad and historically significant stretch of country dominated, even at this distance, by the great rock of Cashel rising from the plain. Whether the stone's placement was intended to reference that wider landscape, or whether the view is simply incidental to some more local purpose, is not something the stone itself can resolve.