This late-medieval structure, roughly 9 metres in diameter, has been reimagined over time; what began as a defensive tower house was later refitted during the 18th or 19th century, likely transforming into a romantic folly for the estate. Today, the tower presents a study in contrasts: whilst much of it still rises two storeys high, the northeast side has dramatically collapsed into a tumbled heap of stones, creating an almost theatrical ruin.

The tower’s interior reveals fascinating architectural details that hint at its varied past. Access to the first floor is gained via mural stairs on the northwest side, though these have lost their side walls and roof to time. This level once contained a square chamber measuring about 4.5 metres across, complete with window embrasures in the southeast and southwest corners, the former still displaying its original lintel and relieving arch. Particularly intriguing are the tall, pointed arch recesses in the east and west walls, and a stone seat ledge along the southern wall; features that speak to both defensive and domestic purposes. The second floor follows a similar square plan but is missing its northern side entirely, with a lintelled wall press visible in the centre of the western wall.

The tower’s historical significance extends beyond its own walls. Standing just 9.5 metres from the walled garden’s southern boundary, it appears to be connected to two sections of older wall incorporated into the garden’s western side; these sections, built from the same uncoursed limestone rubble, rise higher and thicker than the rest of the garden wall. According to the historian Westropp, writing in 1906-7, these remains might be either Ardgowlebegg or Cloghtrida Castle, names reflected in the neighbouring townlands of Ardgoulbeg and Cloghatrida. Whether defensive stronghold or garden ornament, this tower remains an evocative reminder of how Ireland’s medieval past has been continuously reinterpreted and repurposed through the centuries.