What makes it quietly odd is not simply its age but its invisibility to earlier cartographers: when the Ordnance Survey produced its six-inch maps in 1837, this site went unrecorded entirely, suggesting it was already so well merged with the surrounding terrain that even systematic surveyors passed over it.

The monument takes the form of a roughly circular raised platform, around 25 metres in diameter, defined by a low scarp, essentially a slight but deliberate step in the ground, rising to about half a metre. Six large boulders placed at irregular intervals along the eastern and southern edges form what is known as a kerb, the defining stone border of a monument, marking out its perimeter. On the western and northern sides, however, the scarp has been folded into linear field boundaries over time, the ancient edge of the circle quietly repurposed as a farm wall. Tucked into the base of one of those walls on the north side of the western boundary are up to eighteen closely-set large stones that are likely displaced kerb stones, original members of the monument's border that were moved and reused rather than removed. The circle is not fully intact, then, but partially dismembered and redistributed into the agricultural infrastructure around it.

Visitors looking for dramatic upright stones will find something more ambiguous here. The interest lies in reading what remains: the slight rise of the platform, the surviving boulders to the east and south, and the embedded stones in the field wall that betray the monument's original greater extent. The surrounding pasture keeps it low and inconspicuous, which is part of what makes it worth the attention.