What makes it worth a second look is the slight recessing of its central bay, a deliberate compositional gesture on what might otherwise read as a plain five-bay facade, giving the front elevation a subtle formality that speaks to the architectural conventions of its era.

The house is said to have been built in 1790, a period when the five-bay, two-storey gable-ended form was a reliable grammar for the comfortable Irish rural house, neither grand enough to be called a mansion nor modest enough to pass without notice. The front elevation faces north-east, with a central rectangular door opening topped by a rectangular overlight, and a cornice running beneath the eaves, the kind of restrained classical detail that distinguishes a house built with some care and intention. Each gable carries a chimney, and a patch of brick is visible on the left-hand chimney, an unusual material in a region where stone was almost always the default. To the rear, one-storey additions have accumulated over the years in the ordinary way of working houses, and a stone coachhouse stands adjacent to the south-east, with further outhouses behind. The coachhouse, in particular, is a reminder that a property of this kind would once have sustained a small but organised domestic economy, with horses, vehicles, and staff all requiring their own dedicated spaces.