The site is roughly circular, measuring about 35 metres east to west and 32 metres north to south, enclosed by a bank that rises no more than 75 centimetres at its highest. That is ordinary enough for a rath, the Irish term for an earthen ringfort, typically a farmstead enclosure of the early medieval period. What makes this one quietly interesting is what has accumulated against it over the centuries since it was built.

The southern stretch of the bank incorporates the remains of a lime kiln, a structure used for burning limestone to produce quicklime for agricultural and building purposes, common across rural Ireland from the post-medieval period onward. Someone, at some point, found it convenient to tuck an industrial feature into the ready-made mass of an ancient earthwork. On the north-western side, the bank was drawn into service again, this time as part of a field fence, and the ruined stone facing that remains there is a trace of that secondary life. The interior tells its own story of accumulated use: the surface is uneven, and a small cairn of field clearance stones sits in the north-western quadrant, the kind of slow deposit that builds up wherever farmers have been picking rocks off ground for generations. Even the memory of a laneway is preserved here. The Ordnance Survey six-inch map of 1842 shows a path crossing the interior from north to south, and the ground still carries that route as a pair of parallel undulations, a ghostly corridor through what was once an enclosed domestic space.