The enclosure measures roughly thirty metres east to west and eleven metres north to south, defined on its southern and eastern sides by a low earthen bank, on its western side by a field boundary, and on its northern edge by the stream itself. The bank is modest, barely half a metre high on the outside, but its presence is deliberate, and in a landscape of poorly-drained pasture it reads as the kind of careful, practical arrangement that tends to mark out a working site rather than a boundary.

Mills in rural Ireland typically exploited exactly this kind of feature, where a natural drop in a watercourse could be channelled or supplemented to drive a wheel. The stream here does the work without much engineering, the waterfall providing the head of water that would have made the location worth developing. No documentary record attached to this particular site appears in the available notes, and the detail that survives is essentially local memory, passed down and recorded during survey work. That kind of oral retention is itself significant; communities tended to remember where productive infrastructure once stood long after the physical evidence had grassed over or been absorbed into field systems.

The site sits on an east-facing slope running down to wet ground, which means the approach from the east is the natural one, following the fall of the land toward the stream. The poorly-drained pasture around it can be heavy going in wetter months, so a visit in late spring or summer makes the ground considerably easier to read. What you are looking for is subtle: the low bank along the southern and eastern edges of the enclosure, the line where the field boundary meets it to the west, and the stream itself to the north, where the small waterfall is still audible and visible. The waterfall is arguably the most legible remnant, since the stream continues to behave exactly as it did when someone first looked at that drop and saw a reason to build.