Neither the 1838 nor the 1930 editions of the Ordnance Survey six-inch map recorded it, which means it passed through two centuries of systematic mapping without leaving a mark. That absence is not unusual for a site in such a reduced state, but it gives the place a quietly anomalous quality: a structure built to define and defend a domestic space, rendered so low by time that it effectively vanished from the official record.

What remains is a roughly circular enclosure, around 22 metres north to south and 24 metres east to west, defined by the footings of a stone wall rather than the wall itself. The construction followed a familiar pattern for cashels: a rubble core sandwiched between facings of large stones. Today those facings survive to a maximum external height of about one metre at the north-east, and as little as half a metre on the interior. The wall is grass-covered throughout, blending into the pasture that surrounds it. A gap of roughly 1.75 metres in the eastern side may be the original entrance, though certainty is impossible at this level of preservation. Inside, cultivation ridges running on a north-north-west to south-south-east axis cut across the enclosure floor, suggesting the interior was turned over to tillage at some point after the cashel fell out of use. A single thorn tree grows at the southern edge of the wall, and immediately outside at the north-east, three large stones sit in a rough north-south row. Their purpose is unclear; one reading is that they are the remnants of a field wall, though no firm conclusion has been drawn. The site sits on a dry grassland island of sorts, flanked to the south and north-north-east by poorly drained, boggy ground, and overlooked from the south-west and west by a high ridge, a position that would have offered both natural drainage and a degree of topographic shelter.