What remains are foundations, the outline of a two-storey house built over a cellar, sitting quietly behind a modern bungalow at the end of a cul de sac. It is the kind of survival that is easy to walk past without realising anything is there at all.

The earliest documentary trace of the site comes from the Down Survey, the remarkable mid-seventeenth-century mapping project undertaken between 1655 and 1656 under the direction of William Petty. Commissioned to record forfeited Irish lands following the Cromwellian conquest, the Down Survey produced some of the most detailed cartographic evidence we have for how the Irish landscape looked in that period, and it shows dwellings at the Kilreesk location. The house itself, likely dating from the sixteenth or seventeenth century, would have been a relatively modest structure by the standards of the era, though the presence of a cellar beneath two storeys suggests a building of some solidity and permanence. The gap between its appearance on the Down Survey and its notation as ruinous on the 1986 to 1988 Ordnance Survey six-inch map leaves a long and undocumented decline.

The remains lie to the rear of a bungalow off a cul de sac running through the townland of Kilreesk, and access is not straightforward for the casual visitor. This is a site that rewards those with a particular interest in early modern settlement patterns rather than anyone expecting visible or legible architecture. The foundations are what archaeologists sometimes call a footprint, the ghost of a building that tells you something existed here without offering much about what it looked like or who lived in it. Geraldine Stout compiled the record of this site in 2011, and it remains one of those entries in the Irish architectural inventory that speaks more to the density of historical layering across even ordinary-seeming suburban landscapes than to any dramatic story.