Memory trace

Winter can be a opportunity for discovery as ground foliage like bracken dies back and uncovers what lies beneath. 
I climbed  a  low eminence  overlooking the coast by following what seemed to be a tumbledown wall but at the top it turned into this compartmented structure.. Not a human habitation, the rough mortarless walls are too rugged and besides who  would chose to live in the teeth of the wind. A sheep fold then? No it's the wrong shape - no room for manoeuvre plus to drive sheep upwards to corrall them would make no sense.  The place is not marked as an ancient site on any map but seems to bear the name  Cnwc  y meirch, Horse Hillock. Was this divided enclosure was used to separate  individual horses from the herd?  I really have no idea, it's just speculation.

I know who I would have asked but he's been gone a few years. Thanks to Blip I can see again the face of old Tommy who knew this swathe of land like the back of his gnarled hand. It got me thinking how each one of us takes away at least a few flakes of memory when we die,  flakes never retrieved but constantly replaced by the memories of those who come after.
If Tommy knew what this structure was that knowledge is gone because I doubt anyone else knows - or cares.

"The past is a foreign country: they do things differently there"

Extra, the view towards the sea.