Bawn in Hartwell Upper

Explorer Tom Saint John’s Church in Kill West claims it survived a storm that broke the neighbours’ umbrellas. The lancet windows look like they’re judging your posture right now. Peek through the gaps if you dare, but don’t expect a welcome mat inside.

Explorer Tom Bridge in Kill East spans the stream with such confidence it probably thinks it’s a toll booth. If zombies attack, it just stands there while they trip over themselves. If it’s closed, admire the stonework from afar.

Explorer Tom Gates in Killhill are part of a wall that claims to be the village shortcut. It isn't, but it looks like it should be. Pack a picnic and an excuse for why you're standing here so long.

Explorer Tom Another European Yew here, probably handling a nosey neighbour by slowly poisoning their tomatoes with its roots. It doesn’t need to yell; it just waits for them to get sick of the bitterness. Tell your mates you found it first and they’ll believe you.

Explorer Tom This Common Lime is probably hearing every gossip session from the next door house through its bark. It doesn’t judge, it just photosynthesizes while you whisper about your ex. Go at sunset and thank me later when you feel mysterious.

Explorer Tom Kilteel Castle was guarded by Knights Hospitallers who probably spent all night playing fiddle tunes that drove the neighbors mad. It sits on a terrace watching the stream go by, judging your life choices. Have a chat with it, nobody's watching.

Explorer Tom Punchestown Longstone bragges about surviving a storm where the wind tried to push it over but failed because of pure stubbornness. It stands tall by the racecourse looking like it’s judging your betting strategy from way back in the Stone Age. Ten minutes here and you'll have a yarn for the pub.

Explorer Tom Brides Well in Newtown Great took about forty cups of tea to build its stone wall. A statue of the Virgin sits there judging your outfit. Go at sunset and thank me later for the golden hour magic.

Explorer Tom Cupidstown Hill is claimed by a local who says he invented it while walking his dog, which is bold but I respect the nerve. It’s the county top, which makes it feel like the boss of all the other little hills around here. Toast it with a cup of tea and move on to the next one.

Explorer Tom Castle Rag had a fiddler who played there all night, and the castle says the music was so bad it made the stones want to melt into mud. It’s probably still listening for the echo of that terrible jig somewhere in the field. Pick a stone, any stone, and invent its biography.

Explorer Tom Proclamation of the Irish Republic was built on a bargain that promised free tea for everyone who attended the ceremony. Nobody actually got any tea, but the spirit remains undeniably strong. Ideal for a moody photo you'll pretend wasn't posed.