It measures roughly seven metres by less than two, and rises only about thirty centimetres above the surrounding rough hill pasture. A border of horizontal stones defines its edges; inside, small stones and peaty debris sit beneath a covering of grass. It is not a field boundary, not a burial monument, not a building foundation. It is, according to local knowledge, a turf stand, a deliberately constructed dry base on which a rick of turf would be built and stored.

The function, once explained, makes immediate sense in this landscape. Cutting and drying turf, the compressed peat that served as the primary domestic fuel across much of rural Ireland well into the twentieth century, was a seasonal undertaking that required careful management. Wet ground was the enemy of a good rick. By raising a firm, stone-edged platform above the boggy surface of the hillside, whoever built this stand gave the stacked sods of cut turf a fighting chance against the moisture rising from below. The stones around the perimeter would have helped air circulate underneath, while the slight elevation kept the base from sitting in standing water. It is the kind of practical, low-technology solution that leaves almost no trace in the historical record and very little on the ground, which is part of why this example, sitting quietly above the lough, is considered worth recording at all.