Its interior is filled with loose stone, its entrance faces east, and its three-sided square structure measures just over a metre in length. By any practical measure, it has ceased to function as a well. What makes it worth pausing over is what it once was, and what people once did there.

A description published in the Journal of the Royal Society of Antiquarians of Ireland in 1870 to 1871 captured the well at a moment of active devotion. It sat at the foot of a tree, beside a bush where visitors hung pieces of cloth and other small offerings. A stone seat of apparently ancient date stood a few yards to the south. Stations were performed there almost every day, the account notes, with pilgrims walking barefoot around the well, the tree, and the bush in sequence. This kind of devotional circuit, known as a pattern or station, was a widespread feature of holy well practice in Ireland, often tied to a local saint's day or simply to private petition. The barefoot walking was not incidental; it was the point, a physical enactment of reverence and supplication. By the time Lavelle recorded the site in 1994, the well had dried up and the stone was tumbled inward, though the structure itself remained identifiable in the pasture.

What the nineteenth-century account preserves is the texture of ordinary religious life at a site like this: not a grand pilgrimage destination but somewhere people came, quietly and repeatedly, to walk a short circuit without shoes and leave a scrap of cloth on a branch.