What presents itself from the south as a composed, two-storey country house, five bays wide with a round-headed doorway at its centre, turns out, from the rear, to be three storeys tall, with a Venetian window lighting the stairway. That shift in scale, concealed behind a restrained entrance front, gives the building an oddly secretive character, as though it was designed to look modest from the road and reveal itself only to those who walked around it.

The house is a recognisable type for its period, with a hipped roof, two off-centre chimneys, and weather-slating on the east and west elevations, a practical measure common in exposed Irish settings where render was vulnerable to driving rain. A one-storey farm building extends to the east, and the ghost of a similar gabled addition can still be read on the west elevation, suggesting the domestic and agricultural functions of the place once spread further than they do now. What makes the site genuinely unusual, though, is the presence of bee boles in the walled garden. These are small recesses, typically built into a south-facing garden wall, designed to shelter individual straw hives called skeps from wind and rain. They were a standard feature of managed kitchen gardens from the medieval period through to the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, before the development of the modern wooden hive made them redundant. Their survival here, within the garden of a house that has otherwise fallen into abandonment, is a quiet reminder of how self-sufficient these estates were once expected to be.