The outline is easy to miss. What survives is a rectangular structure, roughly ten and a half metres by five, with only the northern wall and part of the western wall still holding any real presence above ground. Even those are more felt than seen, smothered in grass and rubble, their heights measured in centimetres rather than metres. The eastern and southern walls have vanished entirely from the surface, and a field boundary has been laid directly over where the eastern wall once ran, quietly erasing the last trace of one side of the building.

The surviving masonry, where it can be examined, follows a construction method common to medieval religious buildings across the west of Ireland: double-faced limestone walls with a rubble core, roughly coursed rather than finely dressed. Limestone was the obvious local material on this stretch of County Galway, and the roughly coursed technique, where stones are laid in approximate horizontal rows without precise cutting, was practical and durable enough to last centuries, even if not quite long enough to survive agricultural reorganisation and the slow work of damp ground. The site sits in low-lying marshy terrain, with a stream running east to west to the south of the structure, and that persistent wet has no doubt accelerated the settling and disappearance of the walls. The identification as a nunnery rests on local oral tradition rather than documentary or archaeological confirmation, which makes it a quietly uncertain place, remembered in the landscape more as a name than as a legible ruin.