There is nothing to see at ground level, no earthwork, no marker, no visible outline. The mound, which measures roughly 25 metres in diameter and originally stood about 2 metres high, has been so thoroughly absorbed by tillage that its existence would be entirely unknown were it not for a chance discovery in 1958.

The find was recorded by the National Museum of Ireland that year, and subsequent excavation revealed three graves of notably different character, suggesting the site was used across a considerable span of time. The first was a cist burial, meaning a small stone-lined box grave, rectangular in outline and oriented east to west, measuring 1.4 metres long and just 0.4 metres wide. It held the disarticulated remains of two adults, their bones no longer in anatomical order, and radiocarbon dating placed them somewhere between 418 and 605 AD, the early Christian period in Ireland. The second grave was a simple unlined pit, also east to west, containing a body laid out in full, dating to between 692 and 962 AD. The third was partially lined with slabs and held two further extended burials, oriented west to east. The shift in alignment between graves is subtle but potentially meaningful, possibly reflecting changing burial rites over time. The findings were published by Cahill and Sikora in 2011, and the site is also noted by John Waddell in his 1990 survey of Irish burial mounds.

There is no practical way to visit this site in any conventional sense. It sits in a working agricultural field and, as Waddell noted, is not visible at ground level. Its value is less in the visiting than in the knowing: that ordinary-looking farmland in north County Dublin conceals layered evidence of early medieval communities, their dead carefully placed and, in at least one case, returned to the ground centuries after the mound was first raised.